I’m pretty sure the correct term for this situation is dramatic irony.  Or perhaps poetic justice is a bit more fitting.

He glanced quickly over his shoulder, then looked back down at me.  “You shouldn’t be telling me this, should you?  Aren’t you breaking the code of feminism or something?"

“Remind me again who I’m friends with?” I narrowed my eyes.  “I don’t really need to protect them when they’re looking at you as though you’re a steak dinner in a five star restaurant and they haven’t eaten in weeks, do I?  Someone’s bound to see them, after all..."